


Corroding Hearts

by haeni (hanijima)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Character Death, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanijima/pseuds/haeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is collapsing, but somehow Jongin falls in love within the chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corroding Hearts

“Sehun,” Quivering hands reach out towards the retreating back of a platinum haired man. Hair brushed from his broad shoulders by the wind, the man’s shirt tattered and worn. “Sehun, come back!”

His voice trails off into faint echoes as he keeps begging for him to come back, to come back into his arms, to the safety he thinks he can provide. His legs weigh heavy as lead, dragging him down and causing the space between them to distend into improbable lengths.

He topples forward on his knees. He tries to brush it off like it’s nothing, but it’s there, that infuriating load hindering him, obscuring him from running towards Sehun.

He looks up and despite the distance, he sees Sehun shatter like a mirror; his features contort into something unbecoming yet still recognizably Sehun. 

He wants to touch him, to feel his fingertips pressing on Sehun’s pale and milky skin, to feel the emanating heat from Sehun’s body. But like every time someone touches broken glass—he bleeds. 

The earth beneath him turns into a blinding crimson red, the sky is tinted into nothing but pitch black. There’s a piercing scream somewhere in the back of his head, and he desperately covers his ears because the scream is so familiar.

_Help! Please help me!_

He wants the shouting to stop. He wants him to be safe. He wants everything to just go back to normal, like how it used to be in his room playing video games and having a good laugh with friends. Or maybe go back to the night where he had him cuddled up under the same bed sheets as him, snoring away, perfectly serene. He wants so much and when a person doesn’t get what he desires the most, it makes him cruel.

He doesn’t want to go down that path, but in some point, he will have to. 

 

He doesn’t have a choice.

Sehun doesn’t look back.

 

 

Everything started when a small number of people went haywire. Media reported them as people who had a few loose bolts while the church kept claiming them as possessed and therefore should be exorcised. However the general public shrugged them off like how most news and cover stories are taken. 

Little did everyone know, it was the start of the end. 

Weeks later, more and more people were sent to asylums, all of them from various places. Doctors and scientists tried to explain them with complex terminologies most people wouldn’t get. Kyungsoo caught the words suicidal and mad somewhere but it didn’t seem significant for him at that time, he was after all, a fresh college graduate.

Soon the asylums were full and the government got involved, “After the autopsy reports on several of the patients, scientists have discovered that the human brain is devolving. How this is happening, there are no further reports. Please tune in tomorrow for further de—“

 

 

Kyungsoo groans as the lack of mobility causes his entire right side to prickle and burn. He feels like he’s woken up from a hangover and slept on the same side for hours. But when he opens his eyes, disoriented, he sees his right hand handcuffed to a stairwell of an unfamiliar house.

_What the fuck_ —Kyungsoo curses at the cold metal link, tugging at it as if it will fall apart that easily.

He keeps pulling helplessly, clanking metal ricocheting in the tattered house, and a fuzzy consciousness suddenly crawls at the farthest corner of his mind like a spider crawling on oversensitive skin. He feels panic kick him in the face and adrenaline pumping madly in his blood stream.

He needs to get out of there. _Fast._

Kyungsoo pulls his hardest and fails all the same. The metal encasing his wrist does nothing but hold him in place, turning his wrist red with every forceful tug. 

He is going to _die._

There’s a soft sound other than his jagged breathing filling the silence and he turns his head toward its direction in panic. Kyungsoo sees a man, peering at him from the bottom of the staircase, brown eyes and chocolate hair wild like that of a stray dog. Or maybe he just didn’t care about personal hygiene at that point, well who would when practically everyone is crazy and out on a killing extravaganza.

Kyungsoo holds their gazes and thinks of different scenarios of how he’ll die. Before everything that happened to the world, he used to think he’d die surrounded by all those he loved. He mentally laughs; he shouldn’t have gotten out of the house that morning. He shouldn’t have thought that someone else other than himself is still sane. 

His mind spins as he holds his breath. They break eye contact and Kyungsoo casts his eyes downward before he closes them, waiting for the man to attack him or probably gouge his eyes out, like how he saw that deranged man kill his own daughter a few days ago.

But the man never lunges at him; he doesn’t hear any footfalls or feel anyone hollowing his eyes out. 

The man is still uncharacteristically standing underneath the flight of stairs, eyes solemn yet somehow placid nevertheless still sad, behind brown bangs, taking in air calmly.

“Hey,” he tries to call the man, but he’s surprised at his own hoarse voice. He stops and realizes he hasn’t talked in days and his throat is rusty like he had consumed a mouthful of cotton. “Please get me out of these cuffs.” He tries again, when he deems his voice dependable enough.

The man stares at him with an unreadable expression. “Why should I?”

“What?”

“You came from the outside. How could I possibly know whether you’re infected or not?”

“Of course I’m not. I’m talking to you aren’t I?” He scoffs a ‘shit’ between his teeth, spiteful and annoyed to the last letter. The man shrugs and turns to leave. He disappears into what seems to be the living room, Kyungsoo can’t tell well when the light from outside isn’t filtering through the second floor window anymore. 

Kyungsoo’s eyes widened. _How the fuck am I going to the bathroom?_

 

 

“What’s your name?” the man nonchalantly walks towards him, with a sealed pack of noodle in hand. Kyungsoo reaches out instinctively, as his stomach rumbles in hunger. He stands there, watching him rip open the foil and consume the noodles dry. There seems to be not enough water to make soup anyway, Kyungsoo guesses. He could live with it. Dry noodles might not be the best, but he can’t afford to be picky now. 

“I’m Jongin,” his captor hesitates but finally gives up with a shaky breath. Jongin stares down at the flickering candle he lighted up earlier in thought. “Okay. So, who are you? What’s your story in all of this havoc?”

Kyungsoo finishes half of the noodles before he answers. He needs to assess his moves wisely, one wrong move and he could die or something. He doesn’t want that, not yet. So, he looks up from the food and momentarily stopped chewing. “D.O.”

Jongin gives him an incredulous look, crossing his arms while pulling his threadbare jacket closer for warmth. “Is that supposed to be a stage name or something?” He parks himself opposite of Kyungsoo, the candle between them, and Kyungsoo notices the faultless features Jongin has underneath the eye bags and dirt and the mismatching clothes, like a perfectly shaped statue.

Kyungsoo swallows, the knot on his throat rising and falling accordingly. “I suppose. Used to be a singer, so yeah.”

“I used to dance,” Jongin says and it takes Kyungsoo quite a while to answer back. He didn’t really expect anyone to still be rational. He’d spent most of his days cooped up in a house basement he found, away from the raging world, that he had forgotten how to respond properly in a conversation.

“I did jazz and ballet, even if it doesn’t show.” Jongin laughs, the kind of laugh Kyungsoo hasn’t heard in a while, not even from his own lips. It’s short though, Jongin seems to be cautious of making too much noise.

It still makes Kyungsoo remember one of those ballet performances he had gone to before for a certain project. It was a play incorporated with ballet numbers, although he can’t say he understood much about what was going on then, he liked how the ballerinas moved and did pirouettes. They seemed to dance like flowing water, graceful and calm; sometimes it reminded him of silk waving in the wind.

“What about you, D.O.?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t answer. He crumples the empty foil and shoves it in his jeans pocket. “Could you please get me out of these cuffs?”

“I can’t,” Jongin says, shivering despite the heat. “I don’t know if you’d turn into something that’s not supposed to be. Into—a _thing_.”

“I can say the same thing to you,” Kyungsoo shoots back, ignoring the tingling sensation in his right hand from where the blood is being cut off by the cuffs.

Jongin is obviously frustrated at Kyungsoo’s refusal to engage in a proper conversation with him. He doesn’t answer anymore but he gives Kyungsoo a sad, disappointed smile before he stands up to leave.

“Good night.”

 

“When are you letting me out of these cuffs?” Kyungsoo asks. He’s not much of a conversationalist but he’s gone weeks without talking to anyone but himself and he’d rather not go down that road again. It’s an afternoon, he thinks. The light from outside is sufficient to light up the place that he doesn’t need to squint to see the mangy turquoise curtains fluttering with the occasional breeze. 

Jongin is sitting a few steps away from him, his shotgun tucked between his crossed legs, humming something. He ignores Kyungsoo, and chooses to pick the lint on his frayed shirt. 

“You look tired,” Kyungsoo says.

“Aren’t we all?” Jongin shots back, rubbing his temples. 

Kyungsoo laughs but then groans when he moves his limbs. He continues on, “That’s why we rest, right? Let me keep watch so you could rest.”

Jongin stops his ministrations and stares at the boy, who is actually a man, handcuffed across him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Not really.” Kyungsoo looks at Jongin intently, swearing to god his fucking arm hurts. Jongin leaves him around sunset and comes back with two bottles of water and a few cans of tuna. Kyungsoo looks at the portion of food and at Jongin, he hasn’t been on wild camping trips in the forest but he’s pretty sure you’re supposed to ration food in a crisis. And since the whole world is in jeopardy, how the fuck could he just give Kyungsoo this amount of food?

“What’s with this? Why are you giving me so much food?” 

“I’m going out,” Jongin says, not quite looking at Kyungsoo. He lights up the remaining candle before he loads his gun. “Don’t wait for me.”

 

 

Kyungsoo is a hard headed person. Four hours later, he’s still lying on the woody floor, his right hand hanging on the railing, wondering where Jongin could have gone to. Most likely to look for food like he said but, the probability of Jongin leaving him for good is high. 

He tries to sleep with happy thoughts.

 

_“How long have you been wandering around, Jongin?”  
“I’ve been wandering my whole life.” _

 

Kyungsoo hears the front door click but he doesn’t get up. The footsteps are recognizable, _tap, tap, tap,_ the guestroom door opens, _tap, tap,_ and it closes. Jongin’s back.

 

It’s particularly windy around sunset that day, and Jongin hears something slamming shut a few times. At first instinct, he thought some _thing_ ’s inside the house, but it was just a poorly barricaded window in the kitchen. The nails couldn’t hold them in place from the wind. 

He wants to ask D.O. to shut it for him but then again he’s handcuffed him to a stairwell. Jongin sighs heavily, scouring the basement for a toolbox.

He enters the messy kitchen, messy, he thinks, is an understatement. There is a lot of debris scattered around, chunks of wood and metal lying about as if the entire kitchen had been hit with a tornado. 

He sighs and makes his way to the barely open window. Jongin hears a noise coming outside from it. The grip he has on the toolbox tightens, he wonders if he could somehow make use of it as a weapon just in case. _Of all the times to have the shotgun out of range, why now?_

Breathing deeply, he carefully inches closer to the window, picking up a piece of wood in the process. But a strong breeze opens the window fully and Jongin bites his tongue. Despite the darkness brought about by the lack of moonlight, he sees a _thing_ standing right outside the window. He tries to move again without getting noticed but then there’s a crash as he accidentally topples a plate over with the wood. The thing’s head snaps right into his direction and Jongin bolts.

“Shit,” Jongin cusses, running through the clutter of a kitchen to the stairs where he left his shotgun. The thing is on his heels after climbing into the room, but the loud thuds tell Jongin that it’s having a hard time maneuvering its way through the debris. 

“D.O.!” He shouts just a few feet away from the shotgun below the staircase. However, he commits two mistakes. His first mistake is that he’s still got the toolbox in his hands and the second is that he looks back. His feet tangle with each other in his panicked state and he falls forward, hurling the toolbox in the air.

The thing is finally out of the kitchen and is frantically dashing towards Jongin. He tries to get up but it seems he’s injured his ankle. Blood is pumping in his ears, yet the adrenaline coursing through his blood stream isn’t enough to get him up and running. The thing lunges at him, its whole body weight pushing down on Jongin, hands forcing its way to Jongin’s neck. 

While Jongin wrestles for his life, Kyungsoo desperately makes a grab for the saw, just an inch away from his outstretched hand. _This isn’t working_ , he tells himself. Kyungsoo tries to even his breathing, maybe he’d think clearly that way. The second attempt, he uses his foot to drag the saw to him. Once he felt the cold metal in his hand he manhandles the saw and dislodges himself from the cuffs without accidentally cutting off his arm instead.

He seizes the crowbar not far away and runs down the flight of stairs to help Jongin. He whacks the thing right on the side of its head before it can bite Jongin’s fingers off. The thing yelps and falls to its side, cringing in pain. 

Kyungsoo has no idea what’s driving him to keep pulverizing that _thing’s_ head into pieces. Blood is splattering everywhere, onto his shirt, onto his shoes and onto his hands. 

The final blow, Kyungsoo makes sure, is harder than the others to make sure it’s dead. The crowbar weighs heavily in his hands as the adrenaline in his bloodstream dies down. So he lets the crowbar slip from his fingers. Kyungsoo flinches at the sound it makes as it hits the floor.

He hears Jongin groan from behind him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good, just bleeding a bit. Maybe my ankle’s broken though,” Kyungsoo stares at him with his large eyes and Jongin sees the blood on him. They both laugh; Kyungsoo’s sounds tired while Jongin doesn’t know whether his is tired as well or just plain scared shitless.

“Does this mean I don’t need to wear those handcuffs anymore?” He tries to wear a lopsided smile which doesn’t suit him at all. He kind of reminds Jongin of some awkward kid who’s trying to play it cool when he’s been caught watching porn at school.

“No. We’re good.” Jongin sighs.

 

 

_“They’re human just like us, Jonginnie.”_  
“Human? Are you fucking serious? Do you even know what human means anymore?”  
“It certainly isn’t us,” Sehun takes another long look at his bloody hands. “We’re not human anymore.” 

 

 

Days keep passing by, maybe two maybe nine, Jongin doesn’t mind. What he does mind is that food is running low again and he hasn’t left the house for so long that it scares him. Ever since everyone’s gone mad, he’s been living like a nomad. Occupying one house and leaving for another after just a short period of time in case someone might come across him there. 

This time, he tries to make an exception. “One more day,” he says to himself, tucking the gun between his legs, as he leans on the front door below the staircase.

He’s not sure whether D.O. is sane or crazy. Jongin has been observing him for many hours between the days they’ve spent together and he supposes he’s sane, but after he saved Jongin from that thing, he’s back to not being sure again.

Yes, D.O did save him, but the way he mercilessly beat that thing’s brain to a pulp with a crowbar sends shivers down to his spine. The image of D.O. whacking him and bathing in Jongin’s blood is not a good thing to imagine before one sleeps.

“Do you remember when this all started?” Kyungsoo asks between spoonfuls of his canned tuna. Jongin promptly ignores him, preferring to clean the barrel of his gun.

It’s another muted, rainy day but Kyungsoo swears Jongin can hear the loud and haphazard thumping in his chest. He couldn’t stop himself from asking. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

Something is grunting outside the door and Jongin answers back after it leaves. “Why would you think that?” There’s a playful tone in his voice and Kyungsoo doesn’t know if he should be alarmed or not.

“You’re loading your gun,” his gaze follows Jongin’s slow and lazy movements as he breaks open the barrel on its hinge, shoving in a cartridge into the chamber and closes it. “At least let me finish this tuna if you’re going to.” Kyungsoo tries to joke, but it sounded like a pathetic plea for his life.

Jongin drowns everything out and when Kyungsoo’s words reached his ears, it just sounded sad and wrong. He should’ve killed him a long time ago if he originally planned to. He shouldn’t have shared his food if he just wanted to kill him off.

“No, I’m just going to snatch some food from a possible convenience store. We’re running low.”

“Then why don’t you kill me so you wouldn’t have to split the food and risk your life out there,” Kyungsoo says matter-of-factly.

“I kinda like your company, D.O.,” Jongin snickers and waves goodbye. “Who’s gonna drown out those dying shrieks when you’re dead? Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” Kyungsoo shoves the tuna in his mouth, “Let me come with you.” But Jongin is already out of the house and out into the night.

 

 

A month with Jongin and Kyungsoo spent two weeks of it handcuffed to a stairwell. Things are looking up now, he thinks. Jongin found them a new safe haven a block away from the previous one and a good two blocks away from the nearest convenience store. The house isn’t the most luxurious in the neighborhood, just a two storey residence with a few windows, perfect for their fleeting accommodation and it’s easy to barricade.

At least Kyungsoo has his own room now; he doesn’t need to spend his nights on the dusty staircase. It’s not fancy or anything, just a simple room with a bed, probably a guestroom by the lack of personal belongings. He’s okay with it though. It’s not like they’re going to be there forever. 

Jongin knocks on his door and announces he’ll be leaving. Kyungsoo does nothing but nod and goes back to covering the bed with the bedspread he found in the tall oak cabinet. 

Tired, but unable to sleep, Kyungsoo goes around the house. He re-checks the windows and doors on the first floor to see if they’re well blocked before he proceeds to explore the second floor.

He opens the first room and finds a cream colored room, neat and untouched. He sees Jongin’s duffel bag settled on the bed and decides to carry on to the next room. The next room is the master’s bedroom, probably because there’s a king sized bed there and Kyungsoo thoughtlessly jumps face first on the bed.

A pungent smell fills his nostrils and he realizes there’s dried blood on the sheets, a trail leading towards the closet. He scrambles to get up, pinching his nose, and dashes for the door. 

Kyungsoo makes a note to actually be careful where he sticks his nose in. 

The last room other than his is the bathroom; he tries the sink and _holy heavens!_ there’s water. Excited, somehow, he runs back to the guestroom down the hall and finds some clothes to wear. They’re all a size bigger than him yet he doesn’t complain. After a cold shower (which thank god the water didn’t turn into blood or anything disgusting), he goes back to the guest room and waits.

Jongin probably isn’t back yet. But he checks the lock on the front door just in case. 

“Oh.”

“Shit.” Jongin pushes Kyungsoo inside, lines of sweat dripping from his forehead. He’s winded and twitchy as he locks the door, pushing a figurine cabinet against it. 

Kyungsoo gapes at him, trying to put to and to together. “They chased you all the way here?”

Jongin slumps back on the cabinet, sliding downwards to the floor. He nods. “Maybe, I don’t know. Can’t risk looking.” 

“Why didn’t you shoot?” He asks, uselessly hovering over Jongin, a worried frown on his face. 

“It’s not advised to shoot in the dark, D.O.” Jongin has his eyes closed now, still breathing unevenly. “Plus reloading ain’t easy as you think it is. I only have a few bullets on me.”

Kyungsoo says nothing anymore but tells him to take a shower. Jongin’s eyes fly open at the word shower, like it’s a once in a million phenomena he’s always itching to witness.

“Second floor, second room on the left. And don’t go into the other room. It smells like someone died in there.” It was meant like as a joke however Jongin looks at him intently and nods.

“I know, I moved the body in the closet.”

 

 

Days and nights turn into weeks, after that close run-in with the things Jongin decides not to leave the house at all. He tries to monitor the ones who are in the near perimeter and there’s always too much of them to handle. 

Staying and waiting in the house, holding up endless conversations with D.O. has somehow made an eerie tranquility hang in the air of the house. It makes Jongin’s skin crawl with every bump and scratch he hears. 

 

_“Hey, Jongin, how old are you?”  
“Turned twenty a few months ago, I think.”_

 

Two weeks in that house with no clue of what’s going to happen, it’s driving Jongin to the brink of paranoia.

 

_“Don’t you think ‘I love you’s are overrated? You can say it casually like there’s no meaning to it. Jongin, I’m scared of it.”_

 

Kyungsoo sits up from the awful moldy bed, head aching from the sudden jolt. He hears Jongin screaming from the other room and he clambers down the hall with a flashlight in hand. 

“Jongin!” He shouts as well, he feels his guts constricting so tight in alarm that he almost couldn’t run down the narrow hall. 

“What’s going on Jongin?” Kyungsoo unlocks the door with much strength, mind envisioning blood and unnecessary organs spilling around. But what his flashlight illuminates is Jongin curled into a ball on the floor, eyes shut and hands covering his ears as if to block out any noise. Kyungsoo could see the light trail of tears cascading down his cheeks. 

Jongin looks like a total wreck.

“Make it stop.” Jongin is saying something, and it takes Kyungsoo a few steps forward to hear him. He kneels down, prying Jongin’s fingers from his ears. He drags Jongin back onto the bed with all his strength. “Make it stop.”

Kyungsoo places Jongin’s head on his lap, patting his head to ease him. “Make it stop.” Jongin’s hands are now balled into a fist, tears showing no signs of ceasing. 

“I can’t make it stop if I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Kyungsoo croaks, voice laced with sleep and lethargy. His heart is thumping loudly like a bass drum and it’s not helping in any way. “Okay?”

Jongin still has his eyes and fist closed and doesn’t answer him. Kyungsoo patiently waits, his heart slowing down with every passing minute.

“Sometimes,” Jongin says. He doesn’t finish and Kyungsoo thinks he might have fallen asleep again. He doesn’t though, with his trembling hands and shaky breaths, Kyungsoo asks.

“Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes I wonder what would have been when I didn’t leave the house, if I stayed with him instead, even for another day. Or we should have left together.” The heels of Jongin’s hands are now against his swollen eyes in a futile attempt to stop himself from crying. “Sehun—Sehun. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. I didn’t mean to…”

Kyungsoo has no idea who Sehun is or how important he was, probably still is, to Jongin but the words escaped from his lips before he could stop himself. “It wasn’t your fault, Jongin.”

Jongin lies still. Kyungsoo feels a wave of remorse bubbling in his stomach when Jongin screams at him. “ _It wasn’t my fault?_ How would you know? Good fucking lord, D.O.. You don’t fucking know anything.”

“Then why is it your fault?” Kyungsoo tries so hard not to shout at Jongin. He tries not to let out his frustrations by screaming back at him. 

“I left him.”

“Why did you?”

“I thought,” he pauses in concentration. “I thought he was sick. Like a cold or something. He wasn’t getting out of bed, so I went to get some meds. And when I got back—”

Jongin is trembling again, much worse than before. Kyungsoo pulls him up into a sitting position, making direct eye contact with him. He notices Jongin’s unseeing eyes and how they’re filled with yet to be spoken horrors. They turn glassy again and Kyungsoo fears what Jongin would say. “I killed him.”

Kyungsoo’s muscles go lax and he feels himself go sloppy. He let’s go of Jongin, and gapes at the latter in utter disbelief.

“What? What do you mean you killed him?”

“Shot a bullet right through him, whacked him aside with the shotgun. How detailed do you want it? Do you want to know how sickly pale he looked? Or how his eyes looked unmistakably dead?” He spat, every little civility oozing out of his body in a single second.

“Why the hell would you do that, Jongin?” He was gasping now, almost screaming.

“Like I said, I went out to get medicine for him. When I came back I shot him, it wasn’t on purpose, but well maybe it was. He came at me like those _things_. I was panicking. I pulled the trigger and shoved him aside.” Jongin was carding his hand through his hair now; the frustration is getting to him.

“But what if he was bitten or something? Maybe it was the virus that made him do it.” Kyungsoo tries to find logic in all this madness, there is no one to tell him if he was right or wrong. No one to inform him what the hell is happening anyway.

“He was never bitten. If he was, I should have known.” Jongin doesn’t look at him directly anymore, choosing to stare at the picture frame on the bedside table.   
It was a picture of the previous tenants, two guys wearing identical smiles on their faces, the taller one with blond hair has his hand draped on the other guy with a gummy smile. Jongin wonders how they died. “Me on the other hand,” he starts. 

Kyungsoo isn’t listening anymore, thoughts on a journey to find rationality in the chaos of the new world. Everyone isn’t dead, just mindless and a like that of a hungry animal. Why? Because Mother Nature is a bitch and is just taking back what’s hers? Is this divine punishment or just a stroke of misfortune? Some scientists might have created the perfect virus to kill of a country. Maybe not.

“I didn’t kill him because I wanted to.” Jongin says, pulling the covers over his head. “I just didn’t know.”

Kyungsoo wants to argue with him, to rile him up, part of him thinks Jongin deserves the guilt but his heart tells him Jongin doesn’t. 

The sun is almost peeking through the windows and Jongin’s probably already asleep, curled into a ball again, like an insecure child without his teddy bear. Kyungsoo falls asleep on the foot of the bed.

 

\--

“Hey,” Jongin pops into Kyungsoo’s room with a pack of biscuits. From the dusty desk he cleaned earlier, Kyungsoo returns the greeting with a tight lipped smile and a single nod. He’s goes back to reading the notebook he found in the house, not saying a word. Its leather cover is already worn out, held together by some rubber bands.

Kyungsoo flips through the pages filled with doodles and notes. He’s careful not to accidentally mix the pages or rip them. He absently taps the pen under his chin, eyes skimming the few interesting entries.

“What’s that?” Jongin inquires, curiosity pulling him. He crosses the room and peers over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, reading along.

 

_#345_

_Today, Lu Han forgot to smile. He always kept telling me to smile everyday but I noticed the whole time I was with him, he never smiled. I don’t think it’s because of finals, he never worries about that. Did I do something wrong?_

_#346_

_Lu Han and I had a fight earlier. It was just about a small little thing like I forgot to eat breakfast with him because I was running late for classes. It’s not my fault I have a 7AM schedule while he has an 8AM one. I kept telling him I was sorry, though he kept pushing me away. What’s happening?_

_#347_

_It’s already 3AM and Lu Han isn’t home yet. Lu Han, where are you?_

_#349_

_Lu Han and I got into another fight. It was a baseless fight, the fourth time this week and it’s only Wednesday. I keep saying sorry to Lu Han and he just sighs at me and walks away to lock himself in the guest room._

_#351_

_I really miss Lu Han. He hasn’t come home for three days and my calls don’t go through. I’ve asked friends and his classmates whether they saw him or not and all of them said no. I knew it was a dick move to call his parents in China but I wanted to make sure if he was okay. They told me that Lu Han said he went to their relatives in the town nearby however that doesn’t set me at ease. Lu Han please come home, I’m worried._

_#353_

_He came home and violently threw all the dishes on the ground and kept stomping on them. After leaving for three weeks, he comes home with several bruises on his arm and hideous slits on his wrists. Just, what’s going on with you Lu Han? I want to help you. I keep telling you that I’m here for you but it’s like you want to hog all the pain for yourself. Lu Han, I’m here._

_#355_  
Lu Han is gone. He’s gone.  


 

Kyungsoo flips the pen, scribbling an _I’m sorry for your loss_ on the 355th entry, probably the last one as the remaining pages glare blankly back at him.

“Where’d you find that, D.O.?” Jongin asks, now sitting cross legged on the bed. Kyungsoo notices the absence of Jongin’s gun and stares at him in complete bewilderment. Hasn’t he learned from the staircase thing?

He lets out a sigh refusing to let Jongin’s ease to faze him. “Kyungsoo. And I found it on the kitchen counter.”

“You’re name is Kyungsoo?”

“Yes.”

“Kyungsoo.” Jongin tries it on his tongue, rolling the syllables perfectly around. “Kyungsoo.” He repeats it for good measure.

“What?”

“Nothing. Your name sounds nice.” Jongin smirks at him. He looks boyish this way, despite the darkening bags under his eyes and his hollow cheeks. Kyungsoo notices his ugly mustard sweater and how it weirdly accentuates his copper hair. 

Kyungsoo flinches, flashbacking to last night’s conversation. Jongin shooting a person named Sehun. That smirk unsettles him, scared that it might be engraved into his mind until his death. He imagines Jongin smirking at him like that, his name on his lips, with the gun directly at his temple. “Kyungsoo.”

“Yeah?” 

Jongin motions for him to follow. He leads him to the attic full of sooty boxes, and then they climb a ladder to the rooftop. Kyungsoo struggles a little with balancing himself on the roof; it’s not like he’s done this countless of times.

When they’re both comfortably settled, Kyungsoo notices the other houses look good as if there’s nothing wrong. As if their world isn’t collapsing. As if everything’s normal again. 

There are less _things_ roaming around today. Kyungsoo likes to think they’re the people who used to live in the neighborhood. He tries to imagine them going out for a causal stroll or something. Maybe Kyungsoo could keep pretending they’re survivors as well.

Kyungsoo holds back a laugh.

Its funny how people could just randomly turn into _things_ —human but crazy as a carnivore that hasn’t eaten for weeks. Sometimes, you can’t tell the difference. They all look alike, minus the blood dripping from their faces and the superior strength when they dismantle your body parts. Most of them are paper white pale, eyes sunken and blank. Jongin has a theory about those _things_ being conscious but their body is out of their control. 

Kyungsoo remembers once he was part of a group before he met Jongin. There were five of them, and one by one the others turned. He didn’t realize until one of them was mauling the other guy ripping him limb by limb. The other one rolled around hysteria and anxiety and later came after him with a baseball bat. Kyungsoo escaped though, decapitating them as he grabbed whatever goods he could. 

He couldn’t kill them, even the bratty horribly dyed blonde girl. 

He couldn’t shoot a hole through the skull of the people he survived with even for a while. 

Jongin nods slowly at this. He’s not one to trust easily. 

“There was this guy from Canada, I think. The other one was a doctor, or a med student. I couldn’t tell the difference. But the girl was a bit memorable.” Kyungsoo cards his fingers through his oily hair in an attempt to brush away his bangs. “She came all the way from south to head north east to find someone. She used to have episodes at night where she chokes any person in range. We kept her tied up every night. The med kid said something about a personality disorder or something.”

“Hmm…” Jongin hums in reply, not quite sure what to answer. 

“Or maybe it was a symptom of being crazy, of being a _thing_. I don’t know.” Jongin rolls around trying to enjoy what little sunlight is left before they go out to infiltrate the old convenience store Jongin found. “Are you scared I’ll turn as well? Seeing as the two of them practically—“

“That’s why I chained you, didn’t I?”

“What about you? What if you devolved right before me? What if you become crazy?”

“I’m already crazy, D.O.,” he drags himself to a sitting position, stretching his arms, as if reaching for the last remaining warmth the sun could offer.

“We should go out and grab some food tonight,” Jongin nudges him, like he was casually asking him out to dinner.

“Sure.”

 

“Jongin.”

“Yeah?”

“You should try to trust me a bit more.”

Jongin rolls around to face Kyungsoo, the bed squeaks as he did and Kyungsoo sits up. “I do trust you, I guess.”

“Then why do you always act so guarded around me?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Prove it.”

“You know what? Never mind.”

Jongin laughs. “Goodnight Kyungsoo.”

 

 

They’re sitting in the dark living room, facing each other. Kyungsoo lighted a candle a while ago but Jongin says they shouldn’t waste them.

“You go first.”

“Give a short biography about yourself.”

“I thought we were playing one question one answer?” Kyungsoo hits Jongin in the arm and tells him to just go along.

“Okay, okay. My name is Kim Jongin, I’m twenty years old. I was a college student before everything happened. I had an older sister and a few dogs. But they’re dead, I think. Okay, your turn.”

Kyungsoo shifts from his position, “Do Kyungsoo, twenty-one years old. Fresh college graduate, I was about to apply at a company but then stuff happened. I had an older brother, he’s probably dead and so are my parents. I’d rather think that they’re surviving like us somewhere.”

“You mean you didn’t go out to find them?”

“My conscience is better off not knowing, I guess?”

He hears Jongin snicker and lay down on the pillows they scattered around. “What are your hobbies? Considering we’re still in the normal world.”

“Like I said before, dancing.”

“You told me that?”

“Hey, hey. One question one answer. What’s your favorite movie?”

“I’m not really interested in movies. Although I’d say the Avengers.”

“Who among the Avengers do you want to stab with a fork? Tony Stark or Thor?”

“I’d stab Batman but he’s not in the Avengers, so Thor.”

“Why the hell would you stab Batman?”

“Why the hell not?” 

“Okay. Guilty pleasure?”

Kyungsoo fidgets with the pillow on his lap. “I like watching Pororo. Don’t laugh at me, okay?”

“Okay. Pororo is nice anyway. The graphics are amazing.” The questions just get weirder and weirder, ranging from childhood crushes and bizarre foot fetishes and worst public embarrassment scenarios. Kyungsoo keeps laughing at Jongin’s answers, but there’s a question that crossed the line.

“If you were given a chance to kiss anyone, who would you kiss?”

“I’d kiss you.”

“I’d kiss myself too.”

“No, I really would.”

“I get that a lot. My lips are kind of odd anyway, people want a taste.” Kyungsoo laughs, expecting Jongin to laugh with him but the other is silent. “Did you fall asleep?”

 

 

__  
“What if I told you to love me? Would you do it Jongin?”  


 

 

Jongin’s muscle goes lax and he drops the plate onto the table with a loud clatter, causing the scanty meal he prepared to flutter everywhere. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kyungsoo drops the photo, eyes wider than they usually are. Jongin surges forward, grabbing the polaroid away from Kyungsoo’s prying eyes.

“Was that Sehun?” Jongin promptly ignores him, shoving the wallet in his jeans, leaving his food on the table. 

“That’s none of your business,” he huffs.

He probably didn’t need to ask Jongin what relationship he had with Sehun, by the way he acted, Kyungsoo puts to and to together.

Sehun was important to Jongin, probably still is. Kyungsoo thought that they were maybe close friends, but seeing the polaroid, changes everything. The way Sehun looked at Jongin, the way they looked at each other, changes everything.

 

 

Kyungsoo is sitting in the living room again, staring at the black television. Jongin’s not really mad at him; he’s annoyed at himself for leaving his things around, especially his picture of Sehun.

He tries to take a nap in his own room before he goes out later to scavenge some food. 

There’s a crash outside of the house Jongin barricaded himself in. He jerks up awake from his position, his gun ready to shoot something, _or someone._

But he is greeted with silence in the dingy room with its caramel wallpaper peeling off, he is surprised though, that light is filtering through the small opening of the window. He had pushed a sturdy cupboard against it, only allowing a small opening for safety issues. _Might see something to shoot._

The floor creaks with every cautious and calculated step he moves towards the window, checking for any signs of danger. 

There are two things he expected to see after the outbreak, one, things roaming around looking for meat, and two, a goner or a victim bleeding to death or on the verge of being one of those _things._

He doesn’t expect what he sees though. There is a boy, in the middle of the street, eyes wide and frightened, looking around as if he were looking for his mother. That bewildered look on his face almost makes Jongin jump out of the house, out of his provisional sanctuary, and risk his life to yank the boy in to safety. He might be hallucinating though. But what if he’s not?

What if he’s a real human being who hasn’t been infected yet?

Jongin is frozen there for a while, staring at the boy, half-expecting a horde of _things_ to run towards him and mercilessly gobble him up, tear him limb from limb and feast on his carcass. He’s seen it happen before, when everything was just beginning to end. He doesn’t say that he’s used to it though, because he never will.

“Help! Please help me!” the boy calls out, his voice low and shaky.

Jongin wants to come out. No, actually he needs to because the boy’s shouting drew the attention of something undesirable. A big fat man— _thing_ , wielding a jackhammer, runs towards him with eyes hysterical and bloodthirsty. 

The boy cuts off his scream and opts to run into the house across Jongin’s. He slams the door in front of it just in time although the _thing_ is unyielding. It claws on the door at first before it rams the hammer, breaking the wooden barrier. Jongin’s blood thumps in his ears. He checks the near perimeter for any indication of other dangers before he loads his old trusty shotgun and dashes out the street before the _thing_ kills the other possible human being left in the area besides Jongin.

He hopes he’s not too late.

Jongin handcuffs the boy to the staircase in a haze after he shot that pudgy _thing_. Jongin’s not really sure why he wasted precious ammo for the boy. Maybe his body moved on its own accord, sometimes it does that, his body moving without thinking. It just shifts based on its needs.

 

 

__  
“I’m sorry Jongin. I didn’t mean to snoop through your things.”  


 

 

Jongin wakes up from the dream, looking around the room. He runs a hand through his oily hair, trying to get rid of the mental image of the _thing_ he killed. He walks around the house doing his checks, and sees Kyungsoo still snoring, on the living room couch, his face content.

 

 

_“Check your hands if they’re bloody,” he looks down an opens his closed fits, palm facing him. “If they are, don’t talk to me, Jonginnie.”  
_

 

“That was kind of alarming?” Jongin remembers Sehun say, as he tucked his head onto Jongin’s pillow case. They were watching the news about the asylums getting full and the reports about the patients being admitted. It really was scary, but like always, Jongin didn’t care enough.

Somehow he did regret not caring about the news. Who would ever expect something apocalyptic like that happen to them anyway? It sounds like something from a sci-fi movie Sehun would drag him to watch. But when it happened to Jongin’s roommate, he didn’t notice at first.

It started when his always happy roommate Park Chanyeol stopped smiling at him. Sehun was quick to notice but they both dismissed it as a result of work issues the man had. 

“His boss gives him too much overtime. He barely even sleeps at home, always finishing everything around 3AM.”

They put the thought off and went about with their days. Three weeks later, Chanyeol is found lying on the kitchen floor, slashing his wrists with some broken glass. The next night Chanyeol tries to stab Jongin with a butter knife and that’s when Sehun called 911. 

As Chanyeol was being towed away by the medics, he dropped motionless in their grip. Someone shrieked and blood was everywhere. When Jongin got a hold of himself, one of the medics was slit by the throat, eyes extracted from their respective sockets and flailing helplessly on the pavement.

Everything happened too fast. It couldn’t even register to Jongin until it was too late, that Sehun is bathed in his own crimson blood, motionless and dead. 

 

 

__  
“Jonginnie. I love you. Always remember that.”  


 

 

The uncanny hum of the night has Kyungsoo glancing behind him every few seconds, he hasn’t left the house but he feels as if he’s someone’s watching him. There’s a clink somewhere, like metal settling on top of a wooden surface. Jongin is probably up now.

He throws his pride away and makes his way to Jongin’s room. Its Jongin’s again because it’s a new house and he didn’t ask Kyungsoo to stay with him. He’s sorry for snooping through his things, but he didn’t

Kyungsoo doesn’t knock, the door flies open and he sees Jongin on the bed, the cold metal of the shotgun aligned under Jongin’s chin. It sends unsettling shivers down his spine, the tears come unwarranted as he dashes towards the man, grabbing the gun out of his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing, Jongin?” Jongin stares at him, genuinely in shock of being discovered. Kyungsoo raises his trembling hand in the air, almost slapping Jongin in the face. 

“You want to die? After all we’ve been through? You’re already giving up?” Kyungsoo’s voice sounds like a shotgun echoing through the silent room. Kyungsoo intently looks at Jongin’s hazel eyes, searching for an explanation. He wants to know if Jongin is turning, maybe it’ll show or maybe Jongin’s just being desperate.

There is no light in Jongin’s eyes. 

He held Jongin’s arms, shaking the other man. “Jongin, Jongin. Don’t do this, come back. I need you here Jongin. If you died, I wouldn’t know how to take care of myself. Jongin, tell me why you’re doing this. Why you even thought of killing yourself and leaving.”

Tears build up in Kyungsoo’s eyes and he blinks it away. He needs to be strong now, to not show Jongin that he too is breaking. It takes a few moments for Jongin to answer and Kyungsoo wants to really slap him this time.

“There are only three ways out of this. Die by your own hands, get eaten or survive long enough to be one of them.” Jongin is looking at him now, but Kyungsoo knows his eyes are unfocused, that the person before him isn’t Jongin.

“No, no, no,” Kyungsoo shakes his head, gripping his arms tighter. “I won’t let you turn into one of them. _I need you_. We _need_ each other.” Scared and desperate, Kyungsoo falls on his knees and yells superfluous promises. “Okay, I won’t hum when we go out and get some food, I’ll only hum when you tell me to. I won’t keep waiting for you when you told me to go to sleep. I’ll answer whatever you ask me, I won’t avoid anything, just please—please, Jongin. Don’t kill yourself.” 

_“I need you so much.”_

“It’s okay. I need you too.” Jongin gives him one of his sad smiles and Kyungsoo doesn’t know why but he’s standing up and leaning in, wiping that excuse of a smile off of Jongin’s face. He plants a chaste kiss once, tasting Jongin’s lips against his, just brief and soft pressure. He leans in again for another peck until the short kisses turn into open mouthed ones. _He needs Jongin so much_.

Kyungsoo waits for Jongin to push him away, to protest but he doesn’t. 

He opens his mouth, letting Kyungsoo run his tongue inside him, exploring every crevice, allowing Kyungsoo to control the kiss. Kyungsoo takes and takes and takes and when it’s Jongin’s turn to take, he melts into his touches.

Jongin slips his hands into the back pockets of Kyungsoo’s jeans, tugging him on his lap. He lets Jongin lead him, slowly grinding his growing erection on the dent in Jongin’s pants.

Jongin finds Kyungsoo’s hands and places them on his shoulders, moaning against Kyungsoo’s mouth when he cards his fingers through Jongin’s hair. Tipping his head back a little, he breaks the kiss. Jongin sheds all of their clothes off, occasionally sucking hickeys on Kyungsoo’s neck.

“I’m sorry, for scaring you.”

Now bare of any clothing, Jongin pushes Kyungsoo back onto the bed, kicking his bag aside. Jongin smiles, feeling his own erection growing at the sight of Kyungsoo spreading his legs and aching for him. Jongin trails sloppy kisses from Kyungsoo’s inner thighs to his abdomen, filthy and slow.

He makes his way to Kyungsoo’s neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. Jongin likes marking Kyungsoo, he likes the way the moonlight shines on the marks he’s left on Kyungsoo. 

They lock their lips again, Jongin’s hands roaming and mapping Kyungsoo’s body, this time, taking his time familiarizing the soft spots Kyungsoo has. Although, they eventually pull back, Kyungsoo desperately bucking his hips up on Jongin, trying to get more friction on his neglected dick. Jongin holds him by the waist; Kyungsoo lets out a needy whine, kissing Jongin’s jaw.

“Please,” Kyungsoo begs in Jongin’s ear.

“Not yet,” come Jongin’s reply. He moves lower, settling himself between Kyungsoo’s thighs. He spreads them farther apart with his left hand while his right hand moves to Kyungsoo’s mouth. “Suck.”

Hard and needy, Kyungsoo takes in two of Jongin’s fingers, lapping them up and adequately coating them with saliva. Meanwhile Jongin is peppering his shaft with light kisses, from the base to the slit of his dick. Jongin opens his mouth to lick his now fully erect cock at a slow and torturing speed.

Kyungsoo gasps when Jongin takes him in, swallowing around his cock. Jongin’s fingers withdraw from his mouth and Kyungsoo almost forgot that he was sucking them until one of the fingers prod his hole, inching deeper and deeper in him. 

Kyungsoo lets out a low groan. He’s not used to being treated like this, to being handled like he was delicate, but he likes it. He likes Jongin’s gentle touches no matter how frustrating his pace is. 

He squirms when Jongin inserts another finger in him, scissoring him open, preparing him for Jongin. The sensation of being sucked off and being fingered overwhelms Kyungsoo that he comes in Jongin’s mouth without much warning. 

Jongin swallows Kyungsoo’s load however there’s still some come trailing down the side of his lips. Kyungsoo watches the knot under his neck move accordingly. The sight of Jongin is so erotic; he clenches his hole on Jongin’s still moving fingers.

Jongin stops scissoring him, pulling out immediately and _god did I just fucking squeak_. Kyungsoo covers his face with both of his hands, face flushed. He didn’t expect Jongin to pin his hands above him and kiss him again. 

Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter shut, he could taste himself in Jongin’s mouth and couldn’t help compare the feeling from before. Jongin is so gentle it makes his heart pound against his ribcage with much intensity that Kyungsoo thinks is going to break all his bones. 

Tears trickle down his pink cheeks and Jongin is quick to notice the dampness and leans back a bit, forehead against Kyungsoo’s. He smiles and with his thumb, he wipes the few stray tears, and kisses Kyungsoo’s forehead, his eyelids, his tears, his nose, his lips and his neck. 

Kyungsoo almost forgets, almost forgets how cruel the world is now. How everything is hanging by a thread and it’s only a matter of time before everything falls down on them. How Jongin had the gun in his hands earlier and how ready he was to die.

Jongin aligns his own leaking member against Kyungsoo’s twitching hole. Kyungsoo holds his breath as Jongin shoves himself fully inside him. Kyungsoo’s heat is enveloping him and Jongin couldn’t help but moan. 

“Move, please, _please_ ,” Kyungsoo mewls and he does. He starts with shallow thrusts then pulls out completely only to slam back inside. Jongin frees Kyungsoo’s hands and entwines it with his. Rhythmic thrusts soon become erratic ones as they both near their climaxes. 

Kyungsoo’s raspy moans fill his ears, all he can see is Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo and his never ending tears, Kyungsoo and his beautiful heart shaped lips that are now swollen and parted as he whines Jongin’s name. All he knows is Kyungsoo now.

“I need you,” Jongin grunts as they reached their orgasms with Jongin buried deep inside Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo soiling the sheets and his own stomach. Breathlessly, Jongin removes himself from Kyungsoo and lies on his side, pulling Kyungsoo into his arms. 

Kyungsoo is crying against his chest, and Jongin cards his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair, in an attempt to ease him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing Kyungsoo’s head. “I’m sorry.”

 

 

Kyungsoo wakes up and finds himself nestled in Jongin’s bare chest, Jongin’s arm serving as his makeshift pillow. It’s probably numb from cradling Kyungsoo’s head the whole night. He lifts his head a bit to see Jongin sleeping peacefully, his lips looking swollen from being kissed all night. 

The sun isn’t out yet and Kyungsoo thinks he couldn’t sleep anymore. He sneaks out of bed without waking Jongin.

 

 

Hours later, Jongin wakes up with scribbled notes on his wrist. He glides his fingers through each loop of letters, _cigarettes for Kyungsoo._

 

Jongin finds Kyungsoo in the room across his, sitting on the bed and scribbling notes on the leather notebook. “Hey.” Jongin calls him, Kyungsoo startles and jumps out of bed.

Jongin leans in to kiss Kyungsoo square on the lips. An inkling taste of Kyungsoo still sitting on Jongin’s tongue. It reminds Kyungsoo of last night, of how terrified he was and of the ‘what if’s. What if he didn’t barge in there to apologize, what if Jongin decided he didn’t need Kyungsoo, what if?

He is pulled back from his quick reverie, Jongin leaning back from the kiss, pushing him slightly by the hips. “Good morning,” Jongin greets him; a lovely smile gracing the younger’s lips. He almost frowns at Jongin but he manages to keep a neutral exterior.

“Good morning, are we heading out today?”

“Maybe.”

 

 

“Why did you help me?” Kyungsoo asks him almost nonchalantly, their feet dangling from the rusty roof of the house. It feels like a common occurrence, every afternoon they’d lie on the roofs or on the balcony if they’re lucky and stare at the sun setting.

He stares at Jongin’s face, eyes tracing his features and waiting for a reaction, but it seems he wasn’t heard. Half-way through repeating the question, Jongin shrugs. 

“Everyone else’s too insane to be helped –or too dead.” His eyes flickered Kyungsoo’s way and back again into a detachment. “At first I wanted to let you die by that guy’s hands and crawl into a corner and maybe repent on letting you die. But I saw the look in your eyes, a brief moment where you almost embraced death, but then it died and you we’re back to fearing for your life.”

Kyungsoo’s back to his wide eyed stare again, this time with glassy eyes, as if he’s about to cry. “Nah, just messing around with you. You’re a cute little patootie that’s why I saved your ass.” Jongin leans on Kyungsoo’s shoulders, his hand coming up to mess his hair. 

Practically speaking, Jongin didn’t need him. That time, he was already low on food and he only had a single gun with him and not enough ammo. It was a stupid decision and Kyungsoo was heavy luggage weighing him down. Hell, Kyungsoo could have killed him when he let his defenses down. But Kyungsoo is there next to him, all curious smiles and bright eyes. There’s a little twist in his gut that tells him Kyungsoo is the best choice.

“You’re a little piece of shit, aren’t you? That’s why you handcuffed me to that staircase.” He swats Jongin’s hand away teasingly.

“Yeah, and you know it. Actually, I lost the keys to the cuffs.” Jongin plants a chaste little kiss on Kyungsoo’s jaw, laughing directly on his neck. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t hear the wretchedness in Jongin’s laugh, and Jongin doesn’t hear Kyungsoo’s heart breaking. 

 

 

There are days Jongin hates everything. 

Those days are always spent locked away in separate rooms. The both of them bawling their eyes out and starving themselves to sleep. 

That night, Jongin remembers Sehun again. Sehun and his stupid lisp, Sehun and his horrible monthly hair dye, and Sehun and his stupid laugh but he still ends up dreaming of nothing.

He wakes up surprised though, when he feels that he is trapped between Kyungsoo’s strong embrace. He looks down at the older man and he’s sleeping so soundly he doesn’t have the heart to wake him up. Kyungsoo’s sleeping face is adorable, Jongin thinks as he pinches his nose and Kyungsoo’s face scrunches up.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo protests his voice laced with sleep. “Stop it!”

“Why are you here?” Kyungsoo swats Jongin’s hand away and nuzzles closer to the younger. 

“You were shouting too much last night, thought I needed to shut you up again,” Kyungsoo says, eyes still closed. Jongin smiles and places his hands on the older man’s waist hugging him as well. 

 

__  
“The pain doesn’t hit you immediately but you’re already crying before you comprehend whatever’s happening. Isn’t that convenient?”  


 

 

Kyungsoo knocks on the door to Jongin’s room. It takes a while for Jongin to open it and Kyungsoo visibly shivers at the cold air.

“How cold is it?”

Kyungsoo sniffs. “Very.” He cards his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair, a warm little smile forms as Kyungsoo leans in to the touch trying to seize as much heat as he can. He pulls Kyungsoo inside, wrapping him with the blanket he was lying on earlier. 

“What about you?” Kyungsoo asks, his hands gripping on the cover tight. Jongin answers another one of his I’m fine lines but Kyungsoo doesn’t take it and he tugs Jongin closer into an embrace, the bedspread not enough to cover the both of them but Kyungsoo smiles because Jongin feels warm.

Thunder rumbles outside the house and rain pitter pats on the rusty roof, but the two of them try their best not to care, opting to bask in each other’s company. The discrepancy between Kyungsoo’s disarming smiles and Jongin’s sad looking eyes is forgotten as they fabricate a reality that they want to live in. 

Jongin wants to subsist in Kyungsoo’s unconventional and languid kisses while Kyungsoo craves for Jongin’s fingertips gliding on his back, pretending to draw stuff until he falls asleep in the younger’s arms.

Daybreak crawls unrushed, drying up tears that were never seen by the other.

 

 

Their day goes on normally (as normal as it could get at this point), except today they ran into a hillbilly, who’s left arm got chopped off, while they’re scavenging for food. Jongin tries to shoot him down but somehow Kyungsoo convinces him to save the last few bullets they have for desperate measures. 

They manage to duck into a house and barricade the doors and windows before scanning for any devolved human within it –a wrong move on their part. After checking the all the rooms, Jongin with the shotgun loaded and Kyungsoo trailing behind him with the food, they see no sign of anyone else. Not even a single rotten body. 

“Why is it that nobody’s here?” Kyungsoo couldn’t contain the silence between them even after the adrenaline died down a few hours ago. It’s deep into the night and the hillbilly gave up banging on their door for quite some time. It became a silent agreement to stay the night in the house or for a few days. One can never be sure who or what lurks in the night out on the streets.

“I don’t know. But, they sure were stupid if they left the house intentionally,” There are pillows stacked in a cabinet and Jongin grabs them to make a small bed near the second-floor window. He tells Kyungsoo to sleep on the bed and he’ll keep a look out.

Kyungsoo nods in acquiesce, shedding his shirt before he clambers onto the bed with the bag of food next to him. “What if they were one of those who changed?”

“They’re not here anymore,” Jongin leans on the wall and stares at Kyungsoo. “Why? Are you scared?”

Eyes glued to the ceiling, Kyungsoo quietly shakes his head and feels something hard underneath the pillow. He thrusts a hand under it, half-expecting something gross but he pulls out a notebook that looks like a journal.

“What’s that?” Jongin inquires mildly curious but shows no indication of coming near it. Kyungsoo’s eyes drift from it to Jongin and back again. He opens to scan the pages but the light filtering into the room is not enough to see what’s written on it. He skims the knapsack for a small flashlight and turns it on to light a page.

Jongin tells him to shut the flashlight off before it catches anyone or anything’s attention, maybe some moths too. “Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you,” Jongin shrugs as he goes back to his position by the window, the gun next to him. Kyungsoo watches him as he closes his eyes to rest before he decides to read the journal. It’s snooping but they probably won’t care anyway.

Just like the last notebook he read in the other house, the owner tells of their friend who’s acting strangely. Kyungsoo puts the notebook aside, tired.

“Jongin,” he shakes the younger one awake with trembling hands. “Jongin, wake up.”

“What’s wrong?” He rubs his bleary eyes, picking up the gun with his free hand. “Is there anything to shoot?”

“No, it’s just that, I think the previous tenants of this house changed,” Kyungsoo grips his arms as if he’s looking for some assurance. Assurance for what, he doesn’t even know. 

Jongin pulls him in, resting Kyungsoo on his lap. “It’s okay, they’re not here anymore. You don’t need to worry. Everything’s fine.”

“That’s what I’m scared of. Everything’s fine, it’s been fine for too long.” Jongin gives him a look, and tells him to go to sleep. Kyungsoo doesn’t argue.

 

 

_“Things have been going on smoothly for the past few months, it’s unsettling. I keep having the creepy feeling that’s something is about to go dreadfully wrong, Jonginnie. I can feel the curtains closing in on us.”  
_

 

 

They walk their way to the convenience store in utmost silence, Kyungsoo trailing behind Jongin with a crowbar. Jongin however, had stopped a block away from the store. 

“There’s something there. Lurking behind trash bins and heaps of decaying bodies.”Jongin loads his shotgun with practiced ease, ducking into a ruined bakery he checked days ago. 

“Don’t shout if you get caught,” he says, shooing the man away. “Just whack it with a crowbar or something like you did the other day. Don’t scream, I got your back.”

“Fine,” he shrugs at Jongin, and rolls his stiff shoulders.

Kyungsoo walks behind bushes, trying to keep an eye out for _things_. So far he’s only seen three. Two on the way where he left Jongin and the third one is twitching next to the crashed Sedan, all of which unaware of his presence.

He squats ridiculously ten feet across the convenience store entrance before he realizes there were at least six of those things creeping around. Kyungsoo backs away, accidentally stepping on a rotting arm. He almost vomits the meager food he had eaten earlier but he catches himself. Hands on his mouth and nose, he gets over it, taking in a few shallow breaths. 

“Fuck.” He cusses, still wrinkling his nose in disgust.

He can barely see a thing right now, with the crescent moon occasionally being covered with rain clouds. He has a flashlight, one that Jongin handed him before they left the house. It’s too risky to use though, it might draw unnecessary attention.

Kyungsoo puts the flashlight against his shirt, the bulb facing down and he turns it on, quickly throwing it to the opposite direction as far as he can. The flashlight clatters in the still night, Kyungsoo could swear it stung his ears. The _things’_ heads flip to the noise and the bright light. They dash for it, drawn like moths to a flame.

Kyungsoo grabs the opportunity to run as fast and as silently as he can across the street. The door of the convenience store is slightly ajar. He pushes it back and it makes a creepy sound and Kyungsoo could worry less with the creaking when his heart is already thumping so loud he swears the _things_ could hear it a mile away.

He half-expects a thing to jump at him from inside, he raises his crowbar and waits a while for any sound or even a ray of light to filter through the windows. His eyes are barely adjusting to the dark.

With shaking hands, Kyungsoo pulls out a lighter. The place is clear and a total mess nonetheless. He scans the aisles and finds that some of the food had been torn open and the canned ones were just loitering around the floor. He opens the backpack he has and collects whatever he can, some canned stuff and water. 

Kyungsoo is about to exit the store when he is forcefully shoved inside. He’s about to whack the thing but he sees familiar hazel locks and realizes its Jongin. 

“What’s going on?” Jongin doesn’t answer and pulls him into a room at the back of the store. It’s only then that Kyungsoo realizes Jongin doesn’t have his shotgun.

“Where’s your gun?” He asks Jongin who is busy locking them both inside the room. Jongin only stops piling things in front of the door when there’s practically nothing else to use. 

“Accidentally dropped it,” he leans on the back of the door, tiredly, about to close his eyes, but then there’s a sudden noise outside the door. Both of their eyes go wide. “What’s—” Kyungsoo didn’t get to finish his question as Jongin shoves his hand on Kyungsoo’s mouth, effectively shutting him up.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes, listening intently to the sounds coming from the other side. He hears some cans rolling onto the ground, someone shuffling packs looking for something. More footsteps echo in the store, Kyungsoo tries to count the how many there are, and deduces at least seven. 

He opens his eyes and feels Jongin pressed against him in the small room, his hands moving up to press Jongin’s hand onto his mouth. He’s scared, heart pounding so hard, he’s about to scream.

Jongin’s labored breathing fans his face and he closes his eyes again because they’re so close and _things_ are just outside the door. He feels his knees go wobbly, he’s not even breathing. 

Jongin let’s go of him, and Kyungsoo opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He feels himself slipping but Jongin is pulling him up and into his arms. They slide down to the floor, Kyungsoo’s body weight pushing Jongin down.

Jongin wants to scream at Kyungsoo, to ask if he’s okay, except he can’t. Kyungsoo is unconscious but still breathing, so he assumes he’s okay. Maybe he was claustrophobic or something.

Jongin falls asleep next to Kyungsoo in the dusty cleaning closet.

 

_”Don’t worry, Sehun. I’ll be back.”_

 

Jongin doesn’t know what time it is, so he wakes Kyungsoo up. With the lighter, Jongin see there’s a small window above them, not much light filtering through it.

“I’ll try to push you up there, okay, Kyungsoo?” Kyungsoo doesn’t answer. He’s conscious but he doesn’t answer. Jongin shakes him a bit and his body isn’t responding. 

“Kyungsoo, are you okay?” Jongin raises his voice and something crashes from the other side of the door. They’re not safe, they need to get out. He keeps nudging Kyungsoo until he finally takes a deep breath, coming back to his senses.

“Are you okay? What happened back there?”

“Nothing, I’m okay.”

“So, I’ll push you up and try to reach that window. We need to get out of here.” Kyungsoo nods, rubbing his eyes and patting the dust off his knees. Jongin hoists him up on the count of three. Kyungsoo grips the window sill, head peering out the window.

He sees the sun rising, coloring the atmosphere a light shade of blue. _things_ are roaming around and it’s not really a safe exit for the two of them. Kyungsoo jumps back, making as little noise as possible.

“We can’t go there,” Kyungsoo shakes his head, feeling queasy again. “There are so many of them.”

“It’s not like we could pass through this door.”

“Why not though?”

“ _Things_ ,” Jongin hisses at the door. 

So they wait it out, not like there’s anything they could do. Kyungsoo tells Jongin about the food he managed to gather before they locked themselves in. They open a can of peaches and share it, together in an attempt to fill their empty stomachs.

Like always, they pass the time by talking nonsense, sometimes, they sleep. Sometimes Kyungsoo is out of it, staring at nothing at all. It’s not until three hours later that he comes back again, not sure of what happened.

Jongin hugs him tight, kissing him every time he goes out of it. It’s been days already and they still haven’t found an opportunity to get out. “Tomorrow, tomorrow for sure we’ll get out.” Jongin says, feeding Kyungsoo the last bite of their food, his hands unstable.

Kyungsoo smiles weakly at him, and Jongin thinks it’s time. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and places it in Kyungsoo’s hands along with his lighter.

“Are these cigarettes?” Kyungsoo says with a voice so frail and soft.

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to give them to you a week ago, I think.” Kyungsoo smiles and thinks that this is it. This is how they end. This is how Fate and Mother Nature and all that mumbo jumbo will end them. Locked in a room, starved to death. 

The next day when they both awake, Jongin is standing up, pulling him along. “We’re getting out.”

“How?”

“When I push you out, just keep running back to the house. I’m right behind you.” Jongin plants a kiss on Kyungsoo’s forehead. He picks up Kyungsoo’s crowbar and gives it to him. 

“But what about you?”

“What are you talking about? I’ll be right behind you. Trust me.” They begin to remove the stacked up things on the door and before Jongin opens it, Kyungsoo stops him, wrapping his hands around Jongin’s neck in a tight hug. 

“Let’s smoke on the veranda, okay?”

“Okay,” Jongin nods.

Kyungsoo takes in a few deep breaths, before Jongin unlocks the door. Light fills them and they are momentarily blinded by it. When Kyungsoo adjusts, he pulls Jongin’s hand and dash through the door. 

There are _things_ right behind them and Kyungsoo’s grip tightens on Jongin’s hand. He’s not going to let go. They run west, and they’re making so much noise that the other _things_ are turning their heads towards them, joining in the chase. 

Kyungsoo, waves the crowbar in front of him, successfully hitting some of them aside to make a path for them. He wasn’t going to look at Jongin but he turns around, trying to make sure Jongin’s okay.

He trips a corpse in the middle of the street and Jongin is quick to stand up.

“Run, Kyungsoo!” Is the last thing he could remember Jongin say before he pushes himself off the gravel and sprints as fast as his worn-out body could manage. He grapples with lethargy seeping through his eyelids, sleep about to overcome him.   
He pinches his arm to keep himself awake, his nails digging deep on his forearm. Then a question pops up in his head. _Will Jongin be alright?_ He wants to look back again, to ease his conscience perhaps? But Jongin told him to run, and that’s what he does.

The stretch of open road reeks of freedom but somehow it can never be.

The cold morning air slaps him in the face as he dashes past the street, all lined with abandoned houses that were full of warmth and love before everything fucked up. His knees kept screaming in protest as their previous safe haven comes to view, a few yards down the street. He can make it, _for Jongin,_ he thinks.

He locks the door, pushes an assortment of cupboards, cabinets and tables in an attempt to barricade himself in. He is about to shove one last table, but he remembers something that rips him apart. 

Kyungsoo looks back at the quiet streets lined with skeletal trees with leaves rotting on the grass beneath them. Their safe haven is now a dead zone, just like the rest of the world.

 

He can’t do this, not without Jongin.

 

 

**Goodnight**

Kyungsoo is gone and Jongin toys the line between hysterical and ballistic, if there is such a line.

He screams for Kyungsoo and he remembers this happening before.

Kyungsoo is running straight for their previous safe haven only two _things_ right behind him. Jongin runs the opposite direction, luring most of them away from Kyungsoo. But one of them grabs his foot and he topples forward.

_This is the end_

“Kyungsoo,” He reaches his arms out towards the retreating back of his friend as he lies on the rough gravel. The person who made him stronger, the person who told him that love isn’t built on promises, the person who he trusts so much that he told him to run and save himself. After all that drama, why are the words escaping his lips saying otherwise?

“Kyungsoo, come back!” His voice trails off into faint echoes as he keeps begging for Kyungsoo to come back, to come back into his arms so that maybe they’d embrace death together. Kyungsoo had not promised any ending, but Jongin believed it was implied.

His legs go numb as they are torn apart and gnawed bit by bit. He tries to brush it off like it’s nothing, like it’s a dog that’s being playful with him. The searing pain barely registers compared to the throbbing in his heart. “Kyungsoo.”

Jongin closes his eyes; tears rolling down his perfectly carved cheeks. He thinks that this is all too familiar, it’s happened before. But he’s managed to change something, at least. 

Kyungsoo’s name is the last word that leaves his mouth before his final breath is taken and he lies on the ground as a lifeless cadaver.

 

 

Despite the distance, he sees Sehun shatter like a mirror; his features contort into something unbecoming yet still recognizably Sehun. He wants to touch him, to feel his fingertips pressing on Sehun’s pale and milky skin, to feel the emanating heat of Sehun’s body. But like every time someone touches broken glass he bleeds. The earth beneath his feet turn into a blinding crimson red, the sky is tinted into nothing but pitch black. There’s a piercing scream somewhere in the back of his head, and he desperately covers his ears because the scream is so familiar.

 

But it’s not Sehun screaming anymore. It’s Jongin who screams. He screams for Kyungsoo. 

He wants the shouting to stop. He wants him to be safe. He wants everything to just go back to how normal they could get. Kyungsoo keeping him up at night with his humming and the way it drowns out the scary thoughts he keeps building up inside his mind is soothing. Or maybe go back to the night where he had Kyungsoo cuddled up under the same bed sheets as him, snoring away, perfectly serene. He wants everything, and everything means Kyungsoo.

But Kyungsoo doesn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> part of the kaisoommer 2014 exchange, also posted on LJ


End file.
